


Refuse

by Askellie (NadaNine)



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Underfell, Broken Bones, Fellcest - Freeform, Forced Incest, Gang Rape, Kidnapping, M/M, Mind Break, Multi, Non-Consensual, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Sexual Slavery, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-03
Updated: 2017-04-03
Packaged: 2018-10-14 08:45:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10532949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NadaNine/pseuds/Askellie
Summary: Refuse;verb: indicate or show that one is not willing to do something.noun: matter thrown away or rejected as worthless; rubbish.When Sans goes missing, Papyrus refuses to give up on him, but what he finds may not be his brother any more, nor may he be savable.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [0neType](https://archiveofourown.org/users/0neType/gifts).



Undyne’s mistake wasn’t in telling him to take her along the next time he went digging. There were places in the Underground that even the Royal Guard didn’t go except in groups; places where Asgore’s rule didn’t quite reach, and where LOVE had twisted the minds of the monsters who lived there in perverse, despicable ways. Those places Sans had told him horror stories about as a baby bones, and warned him never to go there, no matter what.

Papyrus was desperate, but he wasn’t _stupid_. It would have made sense to bring Undyne along to watch his back…if only she hadn’t _also_ told him it was a fool’s errand - that he was wasting his time and deceiving himself if he thought there was anything to be found. Her words had been bluntly matter-of-fact, but he’d been so furious at her for spurning his last shreds of hope he’d spitefully chosen to strike out on his own, not even leaving her a trail to follow whenever she finally realised he was missing.

He was certainly going to regret that, he realised grimly, as he stared around his new prison. There was a thick, unnatural fog clouding his mind, and when he instinctively reached for his magic he couldn’t seem to bring his concentration to bear enough to form anything, not even the familiar shape of a bone to cut his bindings. His attempt made him dizzy, and he blinked more rapidly, trying to clear his sight enough to take in his surroundings. It was a room, carved out of the rock, dark, squalid and lit only by a few grimy, misshapen candles that cast the monster in front of him into distorted, shadowy relief.

“Hey there, Papy,” the monster said in a sickeningly sweet mockery of concern. “How are you feeling?”

Papyrus tried to lunge for the monster’s throat and only succeeded in toppling the chair he was tied to. He landed painfully, his shoulder slamming into the floor and his cheek cracking painfully on the cold stone. The pain didn’t do much to subdue the guttural litany of insults, but gagged as he was, the words were an ineffective, incomprehensible slur. The sheer ferocity behind them made his feelings known, however.

The monster only laughed at him, his two accomplices joining in a second later like some sort of eerie echo. Papyrus tried to twist his neck to glare at them only to have a booted foot placed warningly in top of his skull. There was slime and dust caked into the sole. He shuddered, more disgusted than cowed, but it must have looked otherwise because the monster purred in satisfaction.

“Aww, did that hurt?” the bastard asked, grinding his heel pointedly against Papyrus’s temple, making him feel as though his skull was being crushed in a vise before the pressure lifted away. “There, there, let me help you out.”

The monster set the chair back upright, deftly avoiding Papyrus’s attempt to head-butt him. He took a moment to consider his captive. His leering, invasive stare slid down Papyrus’s body with an almost tangible weight. Papyrus glared right back, trying to size up his opponent for weaknesses. The monster was some kind of reptile, with mottled scales and a mouth full of fang-like teeth that reminded him of Undyne. They might have been similar species, though this monster’s body was top-heavy and misshapen, their spine bending to support their massive chest, a tail sprawling behind him for counter-balance. One of his finned ears had been torn off, leaving nothing but scrappy shreds of flesh, and his clothing had the dank, mildewy scent of someone who spent a lot of time in the filthy streams of Waterfall.

But the detail that struck Papyrus the most, that made him stop and stare, utterly aghast, was that dangling from a chain on his neck was a tiny, pendant-sized cage, and inside it, glowing softly, was a soul. Not the reptile’s own; Papyrus could sense the distinctly different magic coming from it; familiar magic.  His sockets went wide in shock.

The reptile followed the line of his gaze and smirked, lifting the chain and letting it dangle tauntingly in front of Papyrus’s face. “Ahh, do you like my little necklace? Gotta admit, you’re more persistent than I gave you credit for. It would have been better for everyone if you’d just spread the dust we left for you. You could’a moved on. Got that promotion you’ve always been looking for. Made something of yourself…”

The reptile trailed off almost wistfully, idly spinning the pendant in a dangerous arc. The small soul sparked with alarm as it was whirled through the air, but there was no escape from its tiny prison. Papyrus tried to growl a command, alarmed by the careless treatment, but his guttural hiss didn’t translate as anything but helpless fury.

“Too late for that, though,” the reptile mused, its lips curling back to reveal far more teeth than Papyrus was comfortable with. “Though don’t worry, we’ll make something else of ya. Something better. Wanna see?”

Another titter of mocking laughter, and the reptile made a grand, sweeping gesture towards the back of the room. There was a wooden crate resting up against the wall that one of the reptile’s accomplices had been sitting on. Papyrus hadn’t given it a second thought, but as he watched, the lackey stood up and unbolted the lid on the box. He opened it up with a snicker, and with a careless yank he reached into the box and pulled out the small, huddled contents before throwing them carelessly to the floor at Papyrus’s feet.

It was Sans; battered, broken, but alive after all this time. His bones were chipped and filthy, deep gouges marring his already scarred frame. The deepest wounds were crusted with marrow, painful but clearly not recent. He looked unbearably small, curled into a shuddering, wretched ball, completely naked except for the blood and grime on his body.

The wounds looked agonising. He couldn’t imagine how his brother, with his pitiful HP had managed to survive it, but even as he watched Sans shakily lifted his head, staring around with dark, empty socket.

His voice was a weak, pitiful rasp that threatened to crush Papyrus’s soul. “M-master?”

The reptile squatted down, clawed fingers idly swinging the pendant’s chain back and forth, battering the trapped soul against the bars of its cage. “Here I am, pet. Ready to play?”

Sans stared blankly for a moment before reaching out with trembling, ruined hands. Two of his fingers had been severed at their proximal joint, and several of his metacarpals had been cracked or crushed, only magic holding the broken bones together. It looked as though he was trying to reach for his soul, but then Sans’s phalanges came down to scrape pitifully against the floor as he painfully dragged himself closer to the monster, meek and obedient.

“Master, I…missed you,” Sans whimpered, squirming forwards, leaving smears of red and grey on the floor. “Master, play with me. Fuck me, Master, I missed you, I love you, I need you, please, please-!”

Papyrus tried to snarl in outrage, tried to catch Sans’s attention, but Sans didn’t even seem to hear his muffled shout. His empty eye sockets were focused on the reptile, and as he reached his goal he painfully propped himself up, spine arched in supplication.

“Please,” Sans begged brokenly. “Please-!”

“Of course, pet,” the reptile cooed, reaching blatantly for his belt. His gaze was locked with Papyrus’s, malevolent and smug. “Come show me how much you want it.”

Agonisingly, Sans managed to climb to his knees, his face now level with the reptile’s bared crotch. There was a puffy bulge of upraised scales that looked utterly foreign to Papyrus, but to Papyrus’s horror Sans leaned forward without any hesitation, his movements fluid, familiar, practiced. He conjured his tongue with weak, flickering magic and began licking worshipfully across the bulge. Small and uncomfortably eager sounds accompanied the filthy, wet rasp of Sans’s mouth working diligently. The mound of scales began to bulge, and then rippling from an unseen fold a thick phallus began to bulge outwards. Sans immediately took it between his broken fingers, cradling the thick shaft gently as he encouraged its extrusion.

Only as his brother was stretching his jaw wide to try and accommodate the grotesque appendage did it finally occur to Papyrus that he absolutely did not want to watch this. He didn’t want to see his brother being debased while he was helpless to stop it. He didn’t want to see the sickening devotion in Sans’s jerky movements or hear the pitiful sounds he made that were a complete mockery of pleasure. He didn’t want to give the reptile bastard the satisfaction of seeing his anguish. Resolutely, he turned his head aside, staring fixedly at the wall and willing himself to envision his brother’s abuser dying a tortured, miserable death, trying to deafen himself to the awful sounds.

Sans’s blood-curdling shriek snapped his head back around almost fast enough to hurt. The reptile was glaring at him, holding Sans’s wrist aloft so Papyrus could see the newly broken thumb.

“None of that, Papy. You wanted to find your brother so badly. Now you get to watch him.”

The threat hung obviously in the air. If Papyrus looked away, the monster would break another part of Sans’s body. His jaw clenched, teeth digging in viciously to the gag as he fought to keep the rest of his composure steady. His own soul was hammering brutally fast, harrowed by the sound of his brother’s scream.

Sans was swaying slightly in place, gasping painfully around quiet, strained consonants that Papyrus initially mistook for delirious begging. He listened more carefully and immediately wished he hadn’t.

“Thank you, Master,” Sans was saying fervently. “Thank you for the pain. I love you, I love you, please, I need you…”

“Such a good boy,” the reptile approved, stroking Sans’s skull condescendingly. He sneered victoriously at Papyrus before taking a rougher grip on the smaller skeleton’s skull and all but shoving his cock down Sans’s throat. Sans choked slightly on the first thrust, but almost immediately he went limp and pliant, completely unresisting even as his jaw was forced unnaturally wide to swallow the punishingly thick circumference of the reptile’s sex.

“It took a few weeks, but we got him trained into a perfect little cocksucker,” the reptile remarked idly, the words punctuated with crude grunts. As hard as he was trying not to observe, Papyrus had caught an unwilling glimpse of the cruel, pronged tip of the monster’s member before it had gone into Sans’s mouth. He couldn’t help but wince as he heard it scraping against the inside of Sans’s skull, clawing the interior of his cranium. “Listen to how much he loves it.”

It was impossible to tell if the sounds Sans was making were whimpers or moans, but either way Papyrus desperately wished he could block it out. He’d thought there was no worse feeling than sitting alone in his empty house, not knowing but desperately hoping against all odds that Sans wasn’t dead. It was infinitely worse facing down the horrifying possibility that with what his brother had been forced to endure, death might have been kinder.

Each jerk of motion rattled Sans’s small frame with an audible clatter of his fractured bones. Papyrus stared fixedly at Sans’s face, trying to catch any glimpse of emotion or recognition of Papyrus’s presence, but Sans’s expression was blank. His sockets were empty. The only reaction Papyrus noted was one he desperately wished he could unsee; that of magic hazing around Sans’s pelvis, condensing over the bones until rivulets of slick, red-tinted residue began sliding down his femurs. He couldn’t imagine anything the reptile was doing was even remotely pleasurable, especially not in conjunction with the agony Sans must have been in from his injuries, but the signs of arousal were undeniable.

Something of his disgust must have shown on his face, because the reptile wheezed with laughter amidst his exertions. Yanking Sans forward until the small skeleton’s nasal ridge was almost pressing against his scaly belly, the reptile glanced at his accomplices. “Did you ever guess that your brother was such a desperate slut? He’s not happy until he’s filled up to bursting. Come on, guys, he’s still got holes to spare.”

The other two monsters had been quiet but comfortably so, making Papyrus excruciatingly aware that this casual depravity was ordinary to them. At their leader’s invitation, they shifted easily to obey, hungry smiles on their faces as they shed their clothing. One of them roughly grabbed Sans by the hips, yanking hip upward to a more accessible height. Without fanfare they simply shoved their sex – a prehensile appendage that looked something like a tentacle – straight through Sans’s pelvic inlet. Sans’s spine arched at the brutal intrusion, the friction barely eased by his own slick fluids, but as his bare feet scrabbled for purchase on the floor he only seemed to turn his tailbone up to allow for better access.

The other monster had helped the reptile to twist Sans’s skull upward, and for a moment Papyrus thought they were going to try and share his brother’s mouth (though how could they when Sans was already struggling around the reptile’s girth) only for the other monster to plunge savagely into Sans’s empty eye-socket. Bright red fluid gushed out, some ghastly amalgamation of magical gore and tears that made sympathetic pain prick at Papyrus’s own sockets.

There was no finesse or rhythm to the way they ravaged his brother’s body; just a brutal pursuit of their own pleasure as Sans was crushed and pawed at and used. Papyrus didn’t dare turn his head again, but he tried to keep his focus on the swinging pendant that housed Sans’s soul. How long had Sans been without it? How long could he survive without it? Would he be any different with his soul returned, or would he still be this broken, passive puppet?

“Mmm, fuck!” the reptile barked, his body shuddering from snout to tail as he finally hit his climax. Come gushed from the corners of Sans’s mouth and even splurted from his nose, though Papyrus could see his jaw working as he tried diligently to swallow the enormous load. The reptile pulled out, taking a moment to gleefully rub his softening cock across Sans’s cheek, smearing ejaculate further before turning back to Papyrus.

“Enjoying the show?” he asked, looking amused at Papyrus’s intent expression. Papyrus bristled, feeling a completely mortifying heat spreading across his face. It wasn’t like he wanted to see any of this, but as depraved as it was, some part of him was responding to the slick squelching sounds and the way Sans was now gasping, come and saliva dripping down his chin as he was fucked from both ends. His helpless mewls were reaching their own peak, though it was hard to tell if he was close to orgasm or just completely overwhelmed. Shamefully, it reminded Papyrus of the nights he used to press his own earhole to the wall between his and Sans’s rooms, listening to his brother groan and whimper. At the time, he’d been ignorant enough to assume it was nightmares he was overhearing. It wasn’t until a few years later that he recognised the distinct, pleasured cadence that suggested an entirely different reason for his brother’s moans.

He went stiff with unease as the Reptile moved closer to him, a new unholy glimmer of amusement in his expression. “Hey now, no need to feel left out, Papy. My little pet is always happy to take one more.”

It took Papyrus a stupidly long moment to figure out what the reptile was implying, and in the space of his hesitation the reptile managed to fumble open the ornate buckle on Papyrus’s pants and tear open the buttons to bare his pelvis. Papyrus convulsed in his bindings, spluttering in absolute outrage and horror, but the ropes were too tight to prevent the monster’s clawed fingers from wrapping around his pubic bone and squeezing him roughly.

“Your brother always loved this part,” the reptile mused, his palm grinding against the pubic symphysis. The scales on his hands were softer, smaller, and horrifyingly stimulating against the bone. Papyrus’s attempts to jerk away only made him buck harder against the touch, and a vile heat began to spread from the point of contact.

“He’d squeal like a little piglet, tears pouring down his face. He cried for you, you know.” The reptile pitched his voice in an insulting mockery of Sans’s. “Boss please! Boss help me! I’ll be good, I promise, just don’t leave me here.”

If looks could kill, the sheer hatred in Papyrus’s would have dusted the monster where he stood, but not even the black depths of his fury could combat the inexperienced sensitivity of his body. He could feel the foreign pressure of the reptile’s intent straining against his own crumbling resistance, and with a quavering groan of defeat he felt his magic betray him. The cock that formed wasn’t at all his own. It eerily mirrored the reptiles in thickness, the tip bearing those awful prongs. It formed hard and heavy and throbbing, driving almost every other thought from his mind beyond the unbearable need to satisfy it.

“Hey boys, finish up!” the reptile called. “Looks like Papy got all impatient. Guess he really wants to give his brother a go.”

Papyrus struggled hard enough to nearly upend his chair again, trying desperately to dispel the unwanted construct at his pelvis, but the thing very much seemed to have a mind of its own. It pulsed in a horrible way when the monster fucking his brother’s pelvis gave a satisfied groan, his bizarre organ secreting a thick purple ooze across Sans’s bones in lieu of ejaculation. In his panic, Papyrus dared to look away, trying to get a better look at the ropes that held him to the chair. His wrists, elbows and humeri were each bound to the frame, his claws positioned far from anywhere they could be of use. The bindings were tight enough that if he had circulation to be concerned about, he surely would have lost it by now. There was nothing in reach for him to grab, he couldn’t twist his hands enough to claw at the ropes, he couldn’t-!

A new weight was draped unceremoniously across his lap, and Papyrus whirled around to find himself suddenly staring into his brother’s face. Up close, Sans looked even worse. There were deep, dark shadows under his sockets. His gold tooth had been ripped out again at some point, and staring into his eye sockets was like looking into an endless abyss. Papyrus grunted at him, trying to say his name, hoping to elicit any kind of reaction, but Sans just stared blankly, held up only by the reptile’s strong grip on his ribs.

“Come on, pet, you’re not finished yet.” There was a new warning tone in the reptile’s voice that finally made Sans react with a pitiful whine. “Now that you’re fed, why don’t you show Papy here your special trick?”

Fed? It took Papyrus a moment to connect that statement with all the come his brother had swallowed, and he felt vaguely ill. He had to wonder if Sans had eaten anything else but magical ejaculate in the weeks he’d been captured.

A flicker of light drew his attention downward, and he baulked at the sight of his brother’s magic taking form around his pelvic inlet. The other monsters hadn’t bothered with it, but it somehow felt even more debasing that the pussy Sans had conjured was obviously meant for him. The sheer revulsion should have killed his erection, but to his utter dismay it continued to throb even more excitedly. Small beads of pre-come seeped from the head, and he couldn’t swallow back his soft whimper of horror.

“Tell him how much you want it, pet,” the reptile ordered, lifting Sans up and positioning him over Papyrus’s cock. Splatters of red and purple fluids dripped down onto him, making him writhe in disgust and the awful anticipation. He tried to beseech the reptile with a look, his pride breaking enough at the last moment for him to consider begging, but by then all the reptile had to do was loosen his hold and gravity did the rest. Sans sank down on him, warm and wet and tight and completely unwelcome. The instinctive way he jerked to escape the feeling of being buried in Sans’s magic just made his brother moan.

“Yes! Master, please fuck me!” Sans wailed obediently, arms going tight around Papyrus’s neck. This close he could smell Sans – the sour smells of old fear and blood and come almost completely suffocating the more familiar scent of bones and home. Papyrus wheezed in the back of his throat, hating the way unwanted pleasure shook him to his core. It felt so good. How could it possibly feel good?

“No no, pet. Don’t call this one ‘Master’.” The reptile’s smirk was broad and toothy. “Call him ‘Boss’.”

“Boss,” Sans repeated immediately, trying to move himself up the length of Papyrus’s shaft. His legs seemed too weak to support such an ambitious movement, and he barely lifted an inch before dropping back down again, making the head of Papyrus’s cock bottom out against the passage of his magic. Sans barely had the strength to keep his magic conjured, and the niche inside him was almost too shallow to accommodate Papyrus. It felt like his magic was going to break his brother. It was too small, too tight, too much, and far more rapidly than he wished he could feel the urgency to come building.

“Please, Boss,” Sans begged him, mouthing blindly along Papyrus’s cervical vertebrae. It shouldn’t have aroused him, not the feeling of his brother’s tongue delving into the spaces between his bones, but no one had ever touched him in such a way before and his neck had always been sensitive. Papyrus grunted, hips flexing, unable to keep himself entirely still – not when every instinct was screaming at him to move against the unbearable pressure around his cock.

Even though neither he nor Sans could move enough to simulate a proper fucking, it was too overwhelming for Papyrus to last. All his conflicting emotions were drowned out by the clenching heat of Sans’s magic around his own, and with a muffled shout of despair he felt orgasm overtake him with a delirious wave of euphoria.

He lost a few moments, overwhelmed and dizzy, and when he came back down from the sickening high he could hear the reptile laughing.

“Holy fuck, that was quick. Guess your bro isn’t the only slut in the family,” the bastard wheezed with amusement, slapping Papyrus on the shoulder in a too-familiar way. Papyrus tried to glare, but found it impossible to gather his wits enough for proper fury. Glancing down, he saw his cock hadn’t dissipated with the orgasm the way it should have. It was still there, piercing through his brother’s pelvic inlet, barely contained by the straining sheathe of Sans’s pussy. Why wasn’t it gone!?

“Boss,” Sans whispered, and Papyrus jerked because for a moment he thought maybe Sans had regained lucidity…until Sans wriggled in his lap, clearly trying to entice some sort of movement. Papyrus let out a groan, still over-stimulated and sensitive, wanting nothing more than to stop, but his cock seemed to have other sentiments. He could feel it twitching, still eager for more.

“It’s our lucky day, huh? We got a matching pair of desperate whores.” The reptile leaned across the back of Papyrus’s chair, condescendingly petting the crest of his skull the way he’d done for Sans earlier. “It took us three days to break your brother in properly. Let’s see how long it takes you, eh?”

Papyrus shut his sockets and choked back a small sob.


End file.
